


The Ties that Bind

by geethr75



Category: Mahabharata - Vyasa
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2016-06-21
Packaged: 2018-07-16 09:46:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7262938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geethr75/pseuds/geethr75
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some ties are never broken....</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ties that Bind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [arpita](https://archiveofourown.org/users/arpita/gifts), [goldenfairy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldenfairy/gifts), [Zariya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zariya/gifts), [Jasherk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jasherk/gifts), [kindle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kindle/gifts), [mammamia1994](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mammamia1994/gifts), [rutu36panchi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rutu36panchi/gifts), [ALannister](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ALannister/gifts).



The water ran red, he noticed. He had washed himself off and the water with which he had washed was now the colour of blood. The metallic taste of blood was still in his mouth. He wondered if that will ever leave him.  
As he went to his tent, it seemed to him that his soldiers avoided him. The path was deserted. He entered his tent and found that clothes were laid out for him. Food was also laid out on the table. Changing his wet clothes, he put on the dry ones.  
He sat down and started to eat. He wondered why everything tasted like blood today. He pushed the plate away with the half eaten food still in it.  
He had expected to feel jubilant, not depressed. He had expected joy and may be relief, not self-loathing.  
He was aware of someone entering the tent. He did not turn around to see who that was. Only when that someone put an arm round him from behind and held him close did he recognize who it was.  
“Arjuna,” he murmured, leaning into the embrace.  
“Brother,” Arjuna spoke softly.  
Bheema managed a smile. He should have known. Only Arjuna understood. Of all his brothers, only he understood that doing what they had sworn to do was not always easy.  
“It was an inhuman act,” said he now. He could feel Arjuna shake his head. “It was a necessary act,” he replied.  
Bheema lowered his face, “We played together as children,” said he forcing the words out, as if it was some poison.  
“When did he ever remember that?” there was bitterness in Arjuna’s voice.  
“Does that excuse my action?” he murmured. “When I still remembered what he had forgotten?”  
“And do you not remember what made you do it?” asked Arjuna, his voice quiet.  
Draupadi’s tearful face seemed to appear before him. Bheema clenched his fists.  
“No,” said he. “But he is dead now.” He smiled. “Do you remember the time when we stole into the kitchen to mix chilly in Sakuni’s salt box? Duhshasana was the one who had stolen the store room keys for us.”  
Arjuna nodded, his grip on Bheema tightening.  
“Sakuni was hopping mad,” he murmured.  
“Yes,” said Bheema. “He always ate too much salt anyway.”  
They smiled at the memory.  
“That time Duhshasana fell from the tree and broke his head,” said Bheema now. “I carried him to the physician. He was sobbing and clung to me like I was his lifeline even though I was the one who shook the tree with him on it. But he wanted me to stay with him then.” He paused. “I was so scared. I thought he was going to die. There was so much blood. I never thought he would get hurt.”  
“I remember,” Arjuna murmured. “You looked paler than him. And you were sobbing fit to break your heart.”  
“It all started that day,” murmured Bheema. “Duryodhana never forgave me. He never believed it wasn’t deliberate. And he never allowed his brothers to play with us again.” He paused. “Do you think any of us knew then how it was going to end?”  
Arjuna shook his head. “It is not the end, brother,” said he. “Not by a long shot.”  
“I know,” said Bheema softly. “And they are our enemies now. Not our brothers.”  
And yet, even as he spoke, Bheema knew the memory of a small boy who clung to him and called him brother would never leave him.


End file.
